


Redemption through His Blood

by firefly_quill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Demons, M/M, Sad Memories, Swearing, both literal and figurative, implied dub-con, oni!hanzo, references to religious themes in first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_quill/pseuds/firefly_quill
Summary: Hanzo Shimada disappeared without a trace five years ago, and Jesse has been searching for him relentlessly ever since. But is the man he finds still Hanzo? And will they both be able to overcome the demons from their past?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, 
> 
> Worry not: I don't think my heart could handle writing a truly sad story.  
> This is an attempt at a demon!Hanzo story. The description here feels a bit stilted...I would love to hear your thoughts on whether it works or not!  
> Hanzo acts quite differently here (once he appears). I am still struggling with this a bit.  
> The first chapter will contain more fantasy elements than the next few.  
> Thank you for reading! <3

Jesse stepped off the train at half past noon, into the oppressive July heat. He walked the narrow streets of Florence, Stetson tilted low to shade against the blinding Tuscan sun. He had a paper map in hand: it felt right navigating the old way in the old city.

To the untrained eye, he was one amongst many American tourists. Those who knew would read the sense of purpose in his gait, the determination in his eyes.

As he turned another corner leading to yet another narrow street, he passed a young family. The smallest child was working at a double scoop of gelato.

\---  
_  
"You are infuriating," Hanzo was laughing, attempting to dodge McCree's advance. "Had you wanted one, you should have purchased your own."_

_"Don't want my own," Jesse had answered with a sly grin. "Want yours."_

_He had darted forward, tongue extended as he leaned in for Hanzo's strawberry ice cream._

_Hanzo moved it out of reach at the last minute with another chuckle, and kissed Jesse's pout away. He tasted like strawberries and cream._  
  
\---

In recalling the moment, McCree felt a pang in his heart that hit much like a shard of ice.

Hanzo had an insatiable sweet tooth. Jesse wondered foolishly whether he should be searching the gelaterias instead, whether he would wander in to find the archer looking up with surprise from his triple scoop cone. It felt so real, so plausible, that Jesse could almost taste the sweetness of the confection straight from Hanzo's lips. It tasted of longing.

Half an hour later, he arrived at his destination, a small cathedral hidden on an anonymous street. "Small" was a relative term: the building was long and narrow, but its ceilings stretched up high to the heavens, supported by several massive arches and pillars. Despite not being a religious man, Jesse took off his hat and held it to his chest before entering.

A chilling breeze carrying a faint fragrance of incense met Jesse as he opened the heavy wooden doors. The building was dimly lit—old, but majestic. The marble walls were decorated on both sides by large paintings darkened by candle soot and time. On its ceiling was inscribed an especially grand painting depicting the final days of man on earth. While it too was faded, the message was clear, overwhelming—forever looming over all its visitors, as inescapable as that final fate. The worthy would rise to meet their maker in heaven; those who were not worthy were not pictured, their fate unspeakable.

The large painting that decorated the altar was a mess of grey and dark red. It looked as though someone had taken paint cleaner to it, rubbing in circles until the image was only a haze of colour. Above it, on a marble tablet, the inscription was still pristine: _Quo habemus redemptionem per sanguinem eius._

The church itself was fairly empty. McCree marveled at the genius of it: the throng of tourists themselves kept the building hidden with their disinterest.

Jesse perused the side altars, commissioned by families that thought they would live forever, but were now long dead, their wealthiest members forever captured by marble busts, yet all but forgotten otherwise. The paintings above each altar dated to the 1400s. They spoke of redemption.

How fitting.

Jesse took a seat in the front pew.

Tourists wandered in from time to time to escape the summer heat. Once or twice, an elderly Italian lady strolled in to pray either at a pew, or at one of the smaller side chapels.

As the sun set, its beams alighting diagonal lines of dust through the church's high windows, McCree heard slow, steady footsteps approaching on the stone floor. He turned his head to find a priest in long black robes walking towards him. The hem of the garment billowed at his feet.

"It's not often that we see such penitent tourists." The man's deep voice resonated through the stone room. His pronunciation was precise, aristocratic. There was an odd timbre to it, something ancient, something _inhuman_ that signaled a primal alarm deep within McCree's heart: he needed to run, and it took every last bit of his willpower to stand his ground.

"Ain't a tourist." McCree turned away to face the altar again. "I'm a man on a mission."

"Oh?" The priest asked politely. "One might say that all men have missions. What is it that you seek, my son? Forgiveness? Absolution?"

"No," Jesse turned his head to bare his teeth in a humourless grin. "Hanzo Shimada."

"Ahh." The priest's eyes glittered red in the dim of twilight.

"You're not easy to find."

"You can understand why that might be a necessity." The voice was full of dry humour, much like Hanzo's often was.

Even though he knew it was irrational, that this creature was similar to the archer in any way made Jesse unreasonably angry. He growled under his breath. 

"I traveled the whole goddamn world, chasing every whisper, every rumor, every dead end. Finally heard about a priest with red eyes turning up in Florence." Jesse stood, and turned his body so that it faced the priest full-on. "In all my life, I've only heard of two men with red eyes. Reckon that's one too many."

"You are threatening me," The man sounded amused. "Despite knowing what I can do. How rare."

Knowing he only had one chance, McCree leapt into action. He threw the contents of a glass vial hard at the priest's face, and surged forward, pinning the man to the floor, prosthetic at his throat. 

"Holy water. You find me in a Catholic Church and you think I would be susceptible to holy water?" The priest asked. He sounded disappointed.

"Worth a shot," The gunslinger shrugged, aiming Peacekeeper at the priest's temple.

"The dragon. I offered him absolution as well. He did not take it either." A knowing smile spread wide across the man's face, revealing teeth that were just too sharp.

"Where is he?" Jesse pressed his arm down on the priest's neck with more force. "What did you do to him?"

"No, he preferred to work for his forgiveness." The creature ignored McCree's questions. His eyes glowed brighter at the memory. "What is it you humans call it?"

"Redemption," Jesse muttered, throat dry, fear blooming in his chest.

"Ahh yes. _Quo habemus redemptionem per sanguinem eius_ ," The demon lifted his chin to point his eyes towards the inscription above the altar. "'In whom we have redemption through His blood'. Such fascinating fairy tales you tell yourselves."

The demon's eyes closed, as though he were pleased. "As if you could absolve someone else's sin through your own action. Despite not being a man of faith in the strictest sense, the dragon believed in this story as well."

Jesse pressed Peacekeeper hard enough against the creature's skin to leave a bruise. "I ain't gonna ask nice again. Where. Is. He." He could hear how his own voice cracked at the edges with desperation, but didn't have the strength to fix it.

"I am afraid I will be of little help. The dragon and I parted ways amicably quite some time ago," The demon answered as plainly as before, unintimidated by the gunslinger's threat. His voice was unaffected by the pressure at his neck.

"When?" Jesse demanded. "Where?"

"Time does not work in the same way for us," The demon tilted his head, smiling serenely. "You would do well to remember that if you find him again."

"'Us'?" Jesse snarled. "'Us'? What did you do to him?"

"There is no need for rudeness," The creature finally showed slight sign of distress. "I have been cooperative, have I not? Despite what *you* have done? Trespassed on my territory? Threatened my life with your silly toy?"

The air around Jesse seemed to get even colder. He realized it was radiating from the creature.

"Having the gall to demand the location of one of my finest companions, after *you* were the one who—"

Jesse pulled the trigger with a cry before the demon could finish, to his own surprise. He couldn't bear to hear the end of that sentence.

The shot echoed infinitely through the marble hall. Jesse scrambled to stand, shaken. Dark red blood pooled around the figure on the floor. He stood staring at it, unable to move.

Slowly, surely, grotesquely, the figure rose in a manner that defied human anatomy. He was still frowning.

"That was uncouth and uncalled for." The demon was completely unfazed. He rubbed at his forehead. "These are silk robes. The blood stain will be impossible to remove."

Jesse was beyond feeling surprised. He was almost beyond feeling. 

So close. It had been so long and he was so close.

"Where?" he repeated, raising Peacekeeper.

"You still think that will work against me?" The creature in black asked idly. 

"Where?"

"You will do more harm than good."

"Five. Fucking. Years. You stole him from me!" Jesse snarled. "Where!"

"You are not *listening*!" The demon roared. The candles in the entire church flickered out as a frigid breeze swept violently through the room. McCree was pushed back. One of the pews broke his fall. He scrambled to stand, holding Peacekeeper up although he had no eyes on a target. 

The candles relit just as quickly as they had gone out.

"My apologies." By the time the light returned, the demon had regained his calm, and was standing at the altar. "I should not have lost my temper. You are, after all, only acting as you think best. But know that you will undo all of my work, and you will bring him pain. Think carefully before you proceed."

"Where?" It was no longer a question. It was a plea.

The demon sighed and looked perplexed. "As you like, then. The dragon prefers colder climates. Warmth reminds him too much of you." The last line with delivered with a fair amount of passive aggression. It worked. Jesse's body and resolve crumpled from the invisible blow.

\---  
_  
"Let's go away, darlin'. You and me."_

_Jesse was lying in Hanzo's lap, humming as the archer ran a hand through his tawny brown hair._

_"And where would we go?" Hanzo teased, playing along._

_"Somewhere warm," Jesse answered after mock consideration._

_"No need," Hanzo had scoffed affectionately. "You are warm enough for the both of us."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?" Jesse pouted, tilting his head upwards to give the assassin his best upside down puppy eyes._

_"It means that as long as I am with you, I am content." Hanzo leaned down, his loose hair framing Jesse's face as he dipped in for a kiss._  
  
\---

The demon aligned his features in mimicked sympathy, but there was something about it that didn't quite sit right.

"You are in pain, and it is clouding your judgement. You will see."

"My judgement is fine," Jesse narrowed his eyes.

The demon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps this is, to put it in crude, human terms, fated. You are, after all, key to why the dragon and I parted."

Jesse straightened, hope fluttering in his heart. It did not go unnoticed. The demon replied with a cruel smile, as he stepped back into the shadows that were cast longer now in the rising moon.

"Hokkaido. You will see."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse finds Hanzo, but is he Hanzo still?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> This story perplexes me a bit, as it's fairly different from my other writing!  
> The second chapter was spiraling out of control, so it has been split in half.  
> I've added a dub-con tag: you've likely already figured out that Hanzo leaves with the demon at some point, and it is unclear as to if he was manipulated.  
> I would be very happy to hear your thoughts!
> 
> <3

_"Sure you're alright sugar dumplin'?" McCree had asked, amused._

_"For the last time, yes," Hanzo had snapped, arms still wrapped around his own torso. They had not yet reached Volskaya, yet the temperature in the jet had already dropped drastically._

_"Just admit it. You hate the cold," Jesse cooed._

_"No. Some of us have the fortitude to endure the elements without complaint," The archer had replied, haughty._

_"Right. And some of us don't have to," Jesse laughed, wrapping his arms around Hanzo to pin his serape in place on his shoulders._

_Hanzo had accepted it with a begrudgingly peck on the cheek._

_"Remind me never to go north without you," he had grumbled._  
  
\---

Jesse arrived at the town in mid-August, his third try at one that was beside a sizable mountain in northern Hokkaido. The temperature had not yet dipped very low, but Jesse was still hopeful.

It was the friendliest town by far out of the three he had visited. The residents were generally amiable to him, despite the language barrier, but more so to each other. He managed to secure a map with his limited knowledge of Japanese, and learned that the mountain’s peak was a day's hike.

While it seemed like a good outdoor excursion, the locals admitted they did not often travel to the mountain themselves. In fact, the idea that anyone would want to scale the hill met with great surprise, which struck McCree as too odd of a coincidence. He wasn’t sure what to make of their aversion, but decided it was worth checking out.

He himself made it half way up before feeling a great sense of fatigue, and an irrational urge to return to his room in the town for the day.

He grit his teeth and pushed on. Several meters later, he arrived at a small, abandoned shrine to an unknown deity. The desire to turn back was now overwhelming. A new, cold feeling of foreboding crept under his skin, a dizzying fear. He gasped for breath that he should not have been missing, forcing air into his lungs that did not seem to take.

Jesse snarled and closed his eyes, desperately grasping at memories to anchor himself.

\---  
__  
"Date me."

_"What?" Hanzo had turned to face him before letting go of another arrow, disgusted by McCree's timing._

_"Go out with me," Jesse had repeated before letting 5 more bullets fly. 5 enemies fell._

_"McCree can this not wait—" Hanzo stopped mid-sentence as he was forced to roll away from a grenade._

_"No. No more waitin’." Another shot, another hit. "I've already waited my whole life for a man like you."_

_A sigh._

_"Fine. Idiot. If you come out of this alive."_

_\---_

_"Genji gave me the talk today.” Jesse handed Hanzo another soapy dish._

_“The talk?” The archer took it without looking up, a small smile tugging at his lips._

_“The one where he tells me he’s gonna break my kneecaps if I hurt you.”_

_“Ahh. That talk.” His face turned pink, and Jesse remembered thinking it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen._

_“Ya know, I have to wonder, who’s gonna defend *me*?” The gunslinger teased, leaning closer to hook his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder._

_Hanzo snorted, turning to place a gentle kiss on Jesse’s lips._

_“No one will ever need to.”_

_\---_

_"I..."_

_The rest was lost to mumbling._

_"What's that, sweetpea?" Jesse was staring up at the stars, unaware of Hanzo's inner turmoil. His eyelids were heavy, sleepiness encouraged by the warmth of the body beside him._

_"I am in love with you."_  
  
\---

With a shout, Jesse pulled himself back to the present. He was lying next to the shrine, breathing heavily, a sheen of cold sweat on his skin. It would appear, however, that he had won.

He stood slowly, head still pounding from the earlier bout of vertigo. He found himself at the mouth of a cave that he had not seen before he lost consciousness.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the flashlight from his bag, and entered.

The air in the cave was cooler, chilling, reminding Jesse uncomfortably of the church in which he had found the demon. The entrance narrowed so that Jesse had to duck down to continue forward. It eventually opened again into a larger chamber, lit by several torches fixed to the wall.

Within it was a figure lying on a pile of furs, eyes closed.

"Hanzo!"

Jesse ran forward and kneeled beside the man, reaching out to touch the side of his face, half certain he would find that this was all some sort of hallucination.

When his hand met solid flesh, he exhaled a stuttered breath of relief.

Hanzo's eyelids fluttered at his touch. Quick as a viper, his hand was at McCree's throat. Jesse dropped the flashlight.

"Han..." Jesse grasped at the other man's hand, realizing too late he had approached the assassin too suddenly while he was sleeping. 

Hanzo's eyes narrowed, but recognition gradually dawned across his features. 

"It's you," he murmured, in quiet awe. Tilting his head, he searched his memory.

McCree continued to claw at the hand, but the grasp was preternaturally strong. Had he not been preoccupied with dying, he might have had more time to wonder at why Hanzo was reacting to his presence as though he barely remembered Jesse, but his body forced his attention towards the fact that he could not breathe. His natural reflexes could not, however, overcome the fact that he was staring into glowing, pupil-less white eyes. His body tried to gasp in shock, but did not have enough air to do so.

Hanzo hummed. "Jesse."

It sounded as though Hanzo was trying the name for the very first time.

McCree gave a choked reply. Hanzo realized why, and released him.

The gunslinger fell back several steps, gasping for air.

Hanzo sat up, observing him in silence.

When he had composed himself, Jesse stood, drawing closer to Hanzo again. Hanzo did not move.

Jesse saw now that the grayish hue of Hanzo's skin was not a trick of light. He was barely aware that he was reaching out to touch Hanzo until his fingers made contact with Hanzo's upper arm. It was cold and hard as stone. With a fair amount of alarm, Jesse saw that the dragons were gone: in their place was an angry red mask, a grotesque face with nose and teeth that were too long.

Jesse recoiled instinctively. Hanzo made an odd trill, sounding wounded. Realizing the cause, McCree reached out again, this time forcing himself to leave his hand on Hanzo's wrist, even though it was shaking. 

Hanzo’s initial surprise at the gesture melted into a slow, pleased smile. He blinked, furrowing his brow in concentration. Soon after, his eyes dimmed, the light retreating to form pupils and irises. His skin paled, and the bright red tattoo changed in form, if not colour, into the double winding dragons.

Once the transformation was complete, Hanzo moved closer to peer at the gunslinger with curiosity, tucking his hair back behind his ear so that he could observe him more properly. Jesse flushed from the intensity of Hanzo's gaze. Noticing this, Shimada pressed even further forward with interest.

"You came. For me." There was softness to the voice, one that Hanzo had saved for rare occasions.

McCree recognized that it was a question rather than a statement.

"Yeah." He swallowed, barely able to speak past the lump in his throat. Breathing was still difficult, for an entirely different reason. While Hanzo looked much the same as he had before, his blood red eyes betrayed him. He reached a hand slowly towards Jesse, pressing it with care on the side of his face. It felt like ice, and Jesse was overwhelmed, feelings of relief and confusion causing blood to rush again to his cheeks. It only made Hanzo’s hand feel even colder. As if he could sense Jesse’s discomfort, Hanzo retracted his arm. 

"I thought we never would meet again." Hanzo looked mournful at the thought.

"Me too. But I kept hopin'. Kept lookin'." Jesse's voice could bear no more, and cracked under the pressure of the moment. He had found him. He had found Hanzo, but he was—

Hanzo trilled again, raising both his hands to frame the gunslinger's face. Jesse broke completely, sobbing uncontrollably as Hanzo gathered him into his arms. The archer’s skin warmed under his grasping hands that were still trying to confirm that Hanzo was real, until his whole body radiated with heat. Jesse was surrounded by the warmth, overcome by it. The archer’s touch made his skin tingle pleasantly, as though his body itself had missed Hanzo's caress.

Time passed without Jesse's knowledge. He fell asleep at some point, and awoke to find Hanzo roasting a rabbit over a fire. He was handed a flask of cool water. The archer watched McCree eat, but refused when offered a portion of the meat, despite Jesse's insistence. 

"You are all I need." Hanzo had replied serenely, and the blunt honesty of the answer had distracted Jesse from any other protest.

When he had finished eating, Hanzo welcome him again into his arms. While he would often offer affectionate kisses and encouraged the same from the gunslinger, Hanzo did not push for anything more, apparently happy just to be by his side. Jesse was too pleased to oblige, and was in fact relieved. He wondered though whether Hanzo had sensed that he was not ready to go further, still uncertain by what Hanzo’s appearance meant.

They must have spent quite a few weeks like this, if Jesse were to judge by the number of meals. In this time, McCree noticed several things. The first was that Hanzo did not seem to eat anymore, at all. Despite Jesse's pleas, the archer refused all food, and oddly, did not seem to be suffering for it. The second thing that McCree noticed was that Hanzo barely slept. While he was happy to snuggle at Jesse's side, eyes closed in quiet bliss, at some point in the night, he would wake up to hunt or gather the next day's provisions.

A lingering doubt had haunted McCree in the first few days. It almost seemed as though it were too easy, that Hanzo had forgotten completely why they had parted. These fears were soothed with every new kiss, every adoring glance. Jesse had bit back his questions about the assassin's well-being after the first day. While Hanzo was eager to engage in conversation, queries about his current state, and what he had done these past five years had received no answers, only sad smiles and more affection. 

Hanzo’s reaction only served to emphasize even more that the archer was now _different_. His voice maintained the calm that his younger self only found on his best days, in his most private moments with Jesse. While Jesse’s first reaction had wounded him, and the gunslinger felt a good amount of guilt in thinking back on it, since then, Hanzo on the other hand did not seem to feel guilt any more _at all_. Gone were the self-deprecating remarks, the sudden slope of his shoulders when something triggered a memory better forgotten. The burning, raw self-hatred had evaporated, leaving Jesse to wonder at what it had taken with it when it left. 

Despite this, and despite himself, McCree lastly realized he was perfectly content in their current situation, although it should have worried him more than it did. They would take walks during the day, collect firewood, hunt. Other times, they would simply enjoy each other's company, either in conversation or in silence. Hanzo became his whole world, and this did not bother him at all.

However, he had promises to keep, and this was what brought him reluctantly to broach the topic of leaving. 

"Hanzo, darlin'."

They were sitting on one of their favourite ridges, overlooking the nearby town. The archer turned, inquisitive.

"Maybe it's time we went home."

Hanzo tilted his head and frowned. "I am home."

There was a long pause, as McCree tried to find the right words.

"There's people waitin' for us though. For you."

There was a long pause, as it seemed as though Hanzo was considering his words carefully as well. "There is nothing for me in that world. Not anymore. My home is with you." 

Once again, Jesse was struck by how easily Hanzo could admit his to his feelings. He felt a pang of possessiveness at the words, a desire to continue keeping the man all for himself, and so it took some time before he was able to speak again. Jesse reached out for Hanzo, and the other man tucked himself into the gunslinger’s arms gladly. Jesse clenched his jaw, gathering his will to push the issue.

“I promised Genji that I would bring you back.”. Jesse worried for a moment that the name would cause the archer to recoil, and was surprised when it did not. 

“He is alive?” had been the quiet answer. Jesse had forgotten that Hanzo would have no reason to believe otherwise, and remembering the cause for this tore at his heart, made him think again about just _staying_. 

“He is, and he’s waitin’. They all are.” 

Hanzo sat up, searching Jesse’s expression. McCree tried to keep neutral, but knew that he failed. 

“My home is with you,” Hanzo repeated at last. “So if you wish to go, then I will follow."

Jesse’s voice caught in his throat, as he knew what he needed to say, but was finding it ridiculously difficult to speak the words. 

“I need to go.”

“Very well." Hanzo closed his eyes, a reluctant, but accommodating smile pulling at his lips. "Then we will go."

\---

They departed for the small town at the foot of the mountain a few days later. It was here that Jesse activated his Overwatch comm for the first time in several years. Athena answered, and patched him through to Genji.

"Jesse." That one word conveyed worry, anxiety, anger, hope.

"I found him."

There was a quick gasp, and a quiet whirling of instruments that Jesse recognized as the sound of the cyborg ninja's cooling vents.

"Where?"

"On a mountain, in Hokkaido. Listen, there's somethin' you should know..."

"What? Is he hurt? Tell me." Genji demanded.

There was a new edge of command to Genji's voice. It reminded Jesse of the Hanzo of old.

"He's..." Jesse swallowed. "I don't think he's human anymore, Genji."

There was another sound that Jesse recognized from his best friend: one of anguish.

"But he's alive," Jesse tried to be reassuring. "And he knows us."

"Then that is enough."

Once again, the words had that same steel as Hanzo's voice once had, as though if Genji could speak them with enough conviction, they would become true. Jesse didn't realize this was missing in the elder Shimada's voice until he heard it anew in his younger brother's.

"We can be at Gibraltar in a couple of days. Can you...warn the others?"

"What warning would they require?" Genji asked, voice conveying that he was already defensive of his brother's condition even without knowing the exact details of it. "He is one of us, and he is coming home."

"Knew I could count on you, pardner," Jesse answered with a tired chuckle.

"And I, you, Jesse," came the quiet reply. "Thank you."

\---

When they stepped off the plane Winston had sent for them in Hokkaido, the entire team was there to meet them. They were standing under a colourful "Welcome Home!" banner, which looked charming and amateurish, and entirely like the work of Lena and Hana.

During the flight, Hanzo had progressively lost his confidence, and by the end, had been unwilling to leave Jesse's touch. He was making a series of short chirps, which the gunslinger now knew expressed anxiety.

"It'll be alright, sweetheart," Jesse kissed his head in reassurance. "They're excited you're coming back."

"I have not been amongst humans in some time," Hanzo admitted.

Jesse registered that Hanzo had just referred to himself as something other than human, but refused to feel discomforted by it. He gave Hanzo a brave smile instead. "I'll be right beside you."

This did the trick. Hanzo nodded, and leaned against his side, eyes closing.

Genji was the first to approach them as they disembarked. He took several steps forward, slow and careful.

Hanzo was grasping at Jesse's hand tightly.

"It's alright. I won't let go unless you want me to." Jesse murmured close to his ear.

Hanzo looked at him, pursing his lips.

Genji continued his approach.

"...Aniki?" He tried hesitantly. He reached up for the latches to his visor. The mask came off with a hiss.

Hanzo took a step forward, eyes darting to examine him.

"Genji," Hanzo answered, voice soft. It sounded as though Hanzo was confirming his brother's identity by speaking his name.

"Genji." He tried it again. Once more, the word seemed foreign to his lips, as though he were saying it for the first time. He turned to Jesse and nodded, releasing his hand.

\--- __

_"Genji."_

_The word had sounded strange on Hanzo's tongue that very first time Jesse met him as well, but it was more abrupt._

_"It is good to see you, brother," Genji had forced an awkward smile._

_"...yes," Hanzo had answered, voice stiff. He looked away from his brother too soon, a split second before it was polite to do so. He eyed the other agents, who were standing expectantly behind them. "I look forward to working with you all."_

_Something about his tone suggested that he really did not._  
  
\---

"Genji." A warm smile spread effortlessly across Hanzo's face. His eyes never broke from the ninja's. "Brother."

That was all it took.

Genji leapt forward with startling speed, practically jumping into Hanzo's embrace.

It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [tumblr!](https://fireflyquill.tumblr.com/)


End file.
